Gotham's First Family
by Yan Oddball
Summary: A series of one-shots focusing on the extended BMWW family and their adventures.
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to the Family

From the moment they first saw their baby sister in her mother's arms, their father draping a protective arm around both, Bruce Wayne's sons knew that they hadn't seen anything as beautiful as little Alexandria Wayne. Dick had more or less given up on maintaining any sense of composure, and he was cooing and making baby faces alongside Barbara at the baby. Both were secretly glad they'd left their son Carter with Grandpa Alfred at the Manor; the toddler would be having a jealous fit if he saw his parents now.

Jason and Damian were next as Dick and Barbara moved away to let the others see little Alex. They were holding it in better than their older brother, something they were initially smug about. Jason snickered when Diana nudged Damian to hold the baby, causing the young teen to shake his head in frantic panic, but he froze up himself on realizing that his new sister had somehow sneakily wound her tiny hand around his finger. His heart wanted to melt into a puddle of affection for the new kid; his head screamed at him to man up. He was the goddamn Red Hood! The toughest and scariest of the Batclan! He ate bad guys for dinner; Gotham's criminals pissed their pants the moment they heard him walking around the corner! How was it that a baby girl, adorable as she was, could gurgle at him and leave him a simpering simpleton? He glanced at his kid brother beside him and saw Damian having the same internal conversation as the boy stared at Alexandria.

Damian gulped audibly, and he was visibly and hilariously shaking from head to toe as he slowly reached out to pick up little Alexandria from his adoptive mother. Dick nudged him. "Dude, would you stop shaking like that? You're like a human vibrator."

Damian elbowed his older brother hard, a brief flicker of satisfaction across his face as Dick grunted in surprise. The boy's attention was returned to his younger sister soon after however, and he raised an incredulous eyebrow when he realized that the shaking stopped once his hands came into contact with his sister.

Damn, but she was brave, he had to give her credit for that. He had expected her to be crying, like every other baby that was not him, as she was brought into this world, surrounded by strangers. Not every baby could be like he was after all, even if she was the daughter of the Dark Knight and the Amazon Princess. However, she'd only cried once, wanting to be fed, before looking at her new family members, curiosity in her eyes. She gurgled happily as Damian warily ran a finger through the patch of soft downy hair on her head, inadvertently tickling her. He killed off the sappy smile that suddenly appeared and fought to remain on his face, arranging it back into his normal scowl. He too had a reputation to maintain.

His eyes narrowed as he realized that Alexandria still had one hand wrapped around Jason's finger. A sudden spark of jealousy flared to life inside him. Damian scowled at his older brother; Jason glared back in challenge. Oh it was on, Todd.

Damian slowly and deliberately took the baby girl from his adoptive mother into his arms, maintaining eye contact with Jason throughout. The movement caused Jason to take a step towards him, lest Jason lose the grip his sister's hand had on his little finger. Damian smirked at his older brother. Jason stared daggers at him. Bruce and Diana shook their heads in resignation.

On a sudden unspoken signal, the two warring brothers began tickling and cooing to their baby sister in baby talk, causing Alexandria to giggle happily, if in confusion at the sudden change.

Behind the two idiot brothers, the more sensible siblings stood behind smirking. Tim and Cassandra casually leaned against the wall, the latter shaking her head at Jason & Damian's antics, the former awaiting his turn with his new sister while he held his wife's hand. It didn't take long. The baby broke into tears, confused by the minute by her older brothers' unspoken squabbling as they fought for her attention. Tim swooped in before either Bruce or Dick could, and cradled the baby in his arms, whispering to her in soothing tones and rocking her softly. She stopped almost immediately, to the chagrin of Jason and Damian, and gurgled contentedly at Tim before yawning. Tim grinned slyly at his brothers, who promptly scowled back at him, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his wife. Stephanie only rolled her eyes.

Clark, the only non-family member who Bruce trusted enough at that moment to be in the same room as Alexandria, had observed the whole scene with a raised eyebrow. He snorted in amusement as he came to stand beside his best friend. "You know your daughter's going to have all her big brothers wrapped around her little finger, right?" he asked Bruce. "Shouldn't be too hard, she's already done it with her dad."

Bruce grimaced, but didn't argue the point as he looked fondly at his new-born daughter. Clark was right, after all. "Well, at least she'll always have someone looking out for her."

Clark grinned. "True. I wonder how they'll react when she's old enough to date."

Five heads swivelled so fast to face him he could almost hear the synchronised crack of their necks. There was a sudden urge in him to run away screaming. His foot was nervously tapping out a rapid staccato on the floor and he was pretty sure he was in danger of having a pants malfunction at any moment. He focused his gaze at Diana, at the baby, at the presents left by the earlier visitors, at anywhere but Bruce and his children. _Don't look at the Batclan, don't look at the Batclan, whatever you do Clark, if you want to make it out of this room alive, DO NOT look at the Batclan!_

He looked at the Batclan.

Now Clark, as Superman, was a seasoned superhero. He was a founder of the Justice League, and had served as its leader from time to time. He'd gone up against the worst of villains, even toe to toe against Darkseid. Therefore, it went without saying that Clark did not scare easily. But five simultaneous full-strength Bat-glares from Bruce and his sons (and a very slow, very dangerous Bat-stare from Cass) would have given even the ruler of Apokolips pause. Anybody else would have been reduced to cinders in a puddle of escaped urine.

And then they would have left the unfortunate soul to the mercy of Alfred.

Diana tried unsuccessfully to smother the giggle that threatened to escape her as she looked at her husband and adopted sons and daughter, all ready to commit bloody murder on whichever idiot fool male who dared to lay a hand on their new princess.

"Date?"


	2. Chapter 2: Pant Sizes

**Universe 3576: Gotham City**

To hear Wyatt Franklin's granddaddy tell it, Gotham in the old days was heaven for small-time crooks like him. The city's veritable maze of dark and dank alleyways made for an easy occasion to ambush some fat whale, drag him into the shadows and fleece him out of whatever cash and valuables he had on him. The target would sometimes be accompanied by a female companion, either his wife or mistress/girlfriend who, on her part, would be decked out in jewellery and pearl necklaces like a human Christmas tree. It was a freakin' 2-for-1 deal, and the crook lucky enough to score a deal like that would be able to visit the Iceberg lounge every day for the next six months (inflation at that bloody expensive place hadn't kicked in just yet).

Burglaries and bank robberies were especially lucrative. These were the days before the introduction of WayneTech security systems; and the alarm systems in those days were laughably pathetic. They were still impenetrable to the average mugger, but any crook with a good crew, decent tools and the foresight to do _some _planning would be able to make a killing.

The icing on the cake in those old days was the Gotham PD of old. According to Wyatt's granddaddy, they were big on equality, a very admirable and modern trait in the old days. They were equally clueless dealing with the average alleyway mugging as they were with the average bank robbery. They gave equal treatment in the way they dealt with these cases; it didn't matter if you were a normal Gothamite or a rich businessman, they treated you with disdain and a lack of interest, always promising to get back to you but always taking their time to do so. They were equally accepting of bribes to look the other way; it didn't matter who the person handing the bribe was.

Then Thomas Wayne married Martha Kane. Lieutenant James Gordon joined Gotham PD as a young detective out of Chicago. Lucius Fox was personally promoted to the head of R&D at Wayne Industries by Thomas Wayne himself. These people only had surface dealings with each other, and didn't really interact with each other much out of work, but the work that they did changed Gotham. Thomas and Martha rallied against the pervasive poverty that festered in Gotham; while Thomas saved lives in the operating theatre, his wife saved lives through her charity work. Thomas always made sure to assist her whenever he had a moment to spare, and it was a common sight to see Gotham's unofficial 'First Couple' volunteering at a soup kitchen one day and the refurbishment of an orphanage the next. They were not shy about getting down and dirty with their work either; many a time their beneficiaries found themselves with two extra helpers in the couple. While the pair worked to remove its ills, Thomas worked with Lucius to rebuild and improve the city's infrastructure. Thomas provided the ideas and the funding, and Lucius brought them to life with his technical expertise.

James faced a more uphill battle than the rest. The Gotham PD of old was a very corrupt institution, and an honest cop like him stuck out. The other cops tolerated him as long as he left them alone, but dropped case after unsolvable case on him each time he 'stepped out of line'. He didn't mind; these cases were finally getting the investigation they needed. By virtue of his example, Gordon slowly became a role model. The going was slow and tough, but Gordon kept at it.

The efforts of these few went largely unnoticed against the greater scheme of things, but they were no less important over the years. It made life easier for Gotham's citizens, and harder for people like Wyatt Franklin's granddaddy. A few years after Gordon had joined GCPD, muggings were still common, but the crooks were less brazen about it. Where once they would have accosted a victim openly, they did so now from the cover of the city's many alleyways, and always looked over their shoulders for any sign of the police.

Things were still bad, but there was hope.

But then the Waynes were shot dead in a mugging gone wrong. And just like that, the hard work that had gotten Gotham City on the road to recovery came crashing down. The crooks came back, emboldened. Two of Gotham's symbols of redemption and hope were gone. A simple shooting was all it took. It wasn't hard to return Gotham to the hub of crime and lawlessness it was meant to be.

But it was that incident which would change Gotham forever. A spark had been lit in the heart of a young boy; a spark borne out of tragedy, fuelled by anger over the rampant crime that had led to his parents' death, yet tempered by a faithful servant's love and duty towards him. Unbeknownst to many, the young Bruce Wayne grew up to become his city's protector, keeping it safe from within its shadows as Batman.

* * *

This was where things started to go wrong for Wyatt Franklin's granddaddy. Donny Franklin was a seasoned old criminal when the Batman first made his appearance, with only a couple more large heists to go before he called it a day. His family members were all career criminals, all of them having ties with the crime families in Gotham (mainly the Falcones). Being a criminal all his life, Donny wasn't used to the sight of a figure in black swooping down like a demented bat out of hell, especially on his last job. Hell, when he woke up that morning, being reeled in by a grappling hook to be left dangling from a rooftop gargoyle five storeys up was not part of his plans. After the third consecutive round of plummeting down four floors only to be zipped back up, Donny wasn't really sure which was the roof and which was the floor anymore.

What he was sure, however, was that the greasy chicken sandwich he'd ate earlier had evacuated his stomach via his mouth hurriedly and that his bowels were in danger of doing the same. The crazy demon who was tormenting him wasn't much of a speaker. He brought in his face close to Donny's terrified one.

"You're done robbing banks," he growled, before sending Donny freefalling again for a fourth time. The Batman stopped the fall in time and reeled in Donny Franklin the Human Yo-yo again. "Are we clear?"

Donny nodded frantically. Batman's face wrinkled suddenly as he sniffed the air, before smirking evilly. "It's too bad the shops are closed. You're going to have a lot of problems finding a shop open that sells size 35 pants. "

He let Donny freefall a final time, stopping the old crook's descent about a metre from the ground, before cutting the line, causing him to fall to the ground with a painful crack. When Donny rolled over onto his back to look up, the Dark Knight was gone.

Donny swore when he realized that his bowels had definitely evacuated, and Donny swore off crime that night.

* * *

While Donny swore to himself that he wouldn't be involved in any more capers, if only to avoid Batman, he had no problems with his son joining the family business. Freddie Frank Franklin, Donny's only son out of his brood of three, was a large man with arms that toed a fine line between brawny and flabby and bloodshot eyes that were the product of heavy drinking. He had the unfortunate bad luck of being named by his grandfather Jimmy (who fancied himself somewhat of a poet and had been hammered drunk when his grandson was born). He also had the unfortunate bad luck of not having his father's brain when it came to committing crimes.

Freddie was thus a regular in Gotham's jails, and was mainly used as an enforcer for one of the Falcone branch families whenever he was out. On this particular night, he was one of the muscle engaged to provide security for a large drug smuggling operation at the docks. The toy bunnies were stuffed with heroin, the teddy bears with meth. Everything was going well until about 12.30am, when the sentries assigned to the wharves suddenly went radio-silent.

The crooks knew what tended to follow, but even after all these years, facing the Bat or any of his protégés was a terrifying prospect. Carefully-laid out plans tended to be discarded with so much of a fleeting glimpse of a cape. There was safety in numbers, however, so the crooks began to cluster in tiny groups on their own, each numbering about six people. It was at that moment that the Batclan sprang into action.

Smoke bombs burst out where the groups stood, the smoke thick and choking. Figures dropped down silently from the surrounding containers, making short work of the crooks. Even before the smoke had completely cleared, the criminals were already trussed up on the ground, groaning in pain, with the exception of a few stragglers.

Having been on patrol, Freddie had luckily avoided the blitzkrieg attack from the Batclan and was running away as fast as his legs could carry him. A tiny smoke bomb exploded around him suddenly, and a foot tripped him up, causing him to stumble and fall. As he got up, choking, he was greeted by a sight that terrified the crap out of him.

To his left, Red Hood was sauntering towards him. He had put away his guns (which fired only non-lethal bullets nowadays), but was cracking his knuckles almost gleefully as he headed towards Freddie. Red Robin was just behind Red Hood, the younger man extending his bo staff with a sharp crack and a determined expression. Freddie looked to his right and let out an involuntary squeak of terror.

The new Robin, the perpetually pissed-off short brat who generally subscribed to a punch-first-ask-later policy, was marching towards him. The scowl on the ten-year-old's face grew more pronounced as the boy got closer, and he gestured impatiently to the Red team to let him do the questioning first.

There was to be none of that, however. The whoosh of a large cape behind him caused Freddie's stomach to clench in panic. He turned around slowly, and was greeted by both Batman and Nightwing. They were not even glaring, just staring at him, but in a way that caused his heart to pick up speed in panic. At this point in time, a pants malfunction was looking more and more likely.

The smart move was to stay still and submit to the interrogation. It seemed as if Nightwing would be handling the interrogation. He was physically closer to Freddie than Batman, and closer to him than Red Hood or Robin. In addition, he was one of the more…_nicer _ones (if you could call it that) of the Batclan alongside Red Robin so he would use a lot less physical force, if at all.

However, Freddie did not have his father's brain after all, and so chose to bolt. He was stopped by Red Robin who had coolly flung a throwing disc at his temple. Woozy, Freddie never noticed Nightwing grab him and hook him up to a line, the first hook through a belt loop and the second through the seat of his pants.

Nightwing nonchalantly fired the line up to the crane above them, causing Freddie to suddenly hurtle upwards until he was halfway up to the crane. The young hero pressed a button on a control mechanism, and Freddie fell again until he was hanging just above the ground. Nightwing only looked bored as he stood beside his mentor. "Where's the heroin?"

"Not telling you, birdbrain," Freddie managed to get out, still reeling from the freefall.

"Okay," drawled the hero, as he pressed the button again. Freddie let out a shriek of terror as he hurtled upwards again.

It took about a minute of screaming before Freddie finally realized that he'd stopped. He opened his eyes and spared a peek down. Nightwing and the rest of the Batclan were specks on the ground, but still close enough for him to hear them.

"Changed your mind?" called Nightwing. "You ready to tell us now?"

There was faint shouting from Freddie, with a sprinkling of curses thrown in, but it was not clear enough to make it out. Nightwing glanced at Red Robin, who shrugged, and at Red Hood and Robin, who both showed him the thumbs-down. Grinning, Nightwing pressed the button again.

When Freddie was at ground level, Nightwing walked over to the still-suspended Freddie. "Heroin?"

"In the toy bunnies," Freddie gasped out.

"Meth?"

"Teddy bears."

Nightwing turned to his mentor, who had apparently just received a message via the earpiece built into his cowl. "Batman?"

"Oracle said there's been a break-in at a jewellery store. One employee was critically injured and the robbers are making their escape."

He nodded at Nightwing. "We'll clean up the mess here and call Gordon. The three of you take care of the jewellery situation." His younger protégés nodded in assent and took off immediately. Batman and Nightwing turned to Freddie, intent on having a final word with him before they hogtied him up like the rest of the unconscious crooks.

There was a sudden rip and Freddie fell to the ground unconscious in an ungraceful heap, a large tear in the seat of his pants. Freddie was a large man, and his pants had not been of good quality, so it was not surprising that his pants had torn easily. Nightwing picked up the shred of fabric that had gotten stuck on one of the hooks, noticing the tag on it. He frowned, turning to the dazed Freddie.

"Man. Where the hell are you gonna find size 38 pants at this time of night?"

* * *

Despite his grandfather's and father's dismal attempts at crime when Batman was around, Wyatt still wanted to become a career criminal. He had big plans for the 21st century, and firmly believed he had the noggin needed to rise up to become a master heist planner. Nowhere near as good as heavyweights such as the Riddler of course, but good enough to comfortably get away with some lucrative grabs. So what if he was nineteen and barely scraped through high school?

He had the brains, man. He had the brains. He had a surefire plan to score the biggest Gotham bank heist in history. They'd be talking about him not just in Gotham, but in Kane County, Bludhaven…hell, even Metropolis! The money that he'd score would be able to buy him a spot at the Iceberg Lounge's VIP bar, where they had the strongest drinks and the prettiest cocktail waitresses!

He had the brains, but he sure as hell didn't have the luck! Somebody up there was surely jealous of his plans; how else would it explain him being unable to get a decent crew? How else would it explain him losing the tools he'd spent a large amount of money on? How else would it explain the getaway car he'd bought on the cheap suddenly popping a busted engine?

Screw it. He'd do the whole thing himself if he had to. The plan was foolproof after all; he was the one who had thought of it. The people who he had approached to join his crew had laughed at him, saying his plan was worthless and would get him caught within five minutes. He'd show 'em. Let them laugh at him when he was in some island in the Caribbean, sipping on cocktails.

Now if only he could just pick this lock and get the door to open…

* * *

As he worked, Wyatt thought he heard a tired sigh. He cocked his head to the side, trying to discern the source before giving up, shrugging. It wasn't long before he heard a second sigh, this one more pronounced than the earlier one. He ignored it too; it was probably just the wind.

"Seriously, dude, you've been at it for the past six minutes. Do you even know how to use a lockpick?"

Wyatt jumped up about a metre into the air in shock, brandishing the cheap switchblade he always carried around. The unseen voice snorted. "Really? A switchblade? Do you know how to use that too?"

Wyatt frowned. The taunting voice was female, and young. Younger than any of the female vigilantes that normally patrolled Gotham City, in fact. Hell, it sounded like a kid!

There was a sudden whistling in the air and a Batarang embedded itself in the wall in front of Wyatt; a warning shot for him to stay where he was. He wasn't going to stay around to get caught however, and bolted to his left. A second and third Batarang whistled through the air, this time pinning him to the wall by his jacket sleeves. He snarled in desperate frustration and tried to wrench himself free, to no avail.

Nightingale dropped down from the alleyway shadows, her hood up. The moonlight reflected off her domino mask's opaque lenses as she walked out of the shadows. Misdirection, stealth, camouflage, and especially the knowledge of how to strike fear into those who would hurt others; all these had been drilled into her since she started training at the age of five. Now, 7 years later, the youngest of the Batclan held herself well despite her young age. She still wasn't allowed to patrol solo just yet, but she had been patrolling with either, if not both, her parents for the past year or so.

And she was good. It was common knowledge that Nightingale was the daughter of Batman and Wonder Woman, and if Gotham's crooks had scoffed at her initially, they quickly revised their opinion once they realized she had her mother's strength, her father's cunning, and both their combat prowess.

Wyatt felt the first bead of sweat trickle down his back. Shit, this wasn't in the plan! If Nightingale was here, then Batman or Wonder Woman wasn't too far behind! Maybe both too! Shit!

Fear gives you a certain strength, and the fear of being on the receiving end of one of Batman's physical interrogations was enough to give Wyatt the strength to pull himself free and run like hell out of the alleyway. Nightingale never moved from her spot, but there were the beginnings of a smirk on her face. From the corner of her eye, she spotted two figures on the roof of a nearby building; one still hovering in the air, the caped one leaping down the building.

Wyatt looked back as he ran, making sure that the kid was not following him. Distracted, he ran straight into Batman with a painful thud. "Ow! Fuck!"

The original Batman blandly stared down at the groaning Wyatt and took a step towards him. "Don't cuss in front of my daughter, punk," he said. He noted with some satisfaction that Wyatt blanched immediately, the blood draining from his face. This didn't stop him from trying to act tough, and the kid pushed himself up with some difficulty. Wyatt was still brandishing his knife at Batman, but his hand was shaking. Bruce smirked. Cute.

Semi-retired or not, he was still Batman, and he still had it. Bruce took a few more steps towards the retreating Wyatt, making sure that the kid saw him cracking his knuckles. Wyatt gulped, and retreated further.

He never saw Wonder Woman descend from the sky, landing behind him, until he bumped into her. Wyatt gulped again, more audibly this time, and slowly turned around.

Many an unfortunate crook had been on the receiving end of the Bat-glare. It was legendary, and was spoken of in the same hushed tones as the Batman himself. Its powers were mythical. Legend had it that it could hit you from a hundred metres away, and that Batman could reduce a tough, grizzled and hardened crook who would sell his mother without a second thought into a crying baby with just a fleeting glance. If it was trained on you, really focused on you, you'd spill all of your guts within seconds before losing the ability to talk. Even the supervillains, the criminals who went in and out of Arkham regularly, didn't really like to talk about it. Oh you could get used to it, but it always made your stomach clench. So the Bat-glare was dreaded.

But nobody, absolutely nobody, warned them about the Wonder-glare. And when you combined both the Bat-glare and the Wonder-glare…

Wyatt whimpered as he slumped against the alley wall, the switchblade dropping to the ground with a clatter. His mouth moved soundlessly as the two Gotham protectors approached him. Wonder Woman leaned in closer. "You'll have to speak louder, we can't really hear you."

Batman turned his head to the side, just barely changing the snicker to a cough in time.

"I'm sorry…" squeaked Wyatt.

"Aw man!" Both Batman and Wonder Woman turned around to see Nightingale walk towards them, an annoyed expression on her face. She took one look at the dazed Wyatt and turned back to her parents, pouting. "You guys were supposed to wait for me; I wanted to practise _my _Bat-glare!"

Now it was Diana's turn to turn her head and cover her smile. Hera, her daughter was so adorable! Bruce only gave his daughter a self-satisfied smirk. "Oops. Sorry, sweetie. Next time, then."

"Hmph," she grumbled before turning her attention back to Wyatt, giving him a quick punch to knock him out. "And I wanted to scare him enough to wet his pants, but you went ahead and did my job for me!"

"Honey, I still don't get why you're so obsessed with making them wet their pants," said Wonder Woman as she took out a pair of Batcuffs from Batman's utility belt and cuffed the now unconscious Wyatt to a staircase railing.

"It's a rite of passage! At least that's what they told me."

Batman raised an eye in suspicion. "Alright, what have your brothers been telling you now?"

"Every Batkid has to make a crook wet his pants at least once! And it's better if you can have your own unique style! That's what Dick and Jay said!"

"…unique style," said Wonder Woman. She cast an incredulous look at her husband, who shrugged. Their daughter nodded her head enthusiastically, and carried on.

"Uh huh! Dick usually yo-yos them up and down on a grapple line! Jason just cracks his knuckles one by one really slowly. Tim…um, Tim hacks into their personal records and recites out whatever embarrassing detail he can get his hands on! Damian's boring; all he does is growl or make that 'tt' sound and the crooks just faint."

Bruce had his head in his palm, shaking it in resignation. He raised it to look at his youngest. "What about Cass and Stephanie?" he asked mildly.

Nightingale visibly perked up at the mention of her sisters and acted out Black Bat and Batgirl's tactics to her parents. "Ooh, Cass is real cool! She just stands there and slowly turns her head to stare at you, like a – like a tiger! I guess Steph doesn't really count, 'cos she usually prefers to just kick them in the balls."

"Language, young lady."

"Sorry, Mom. 'Crotch'; I meant she prefers to just kick them in the crotch. Tim usually tries to stop her if he's around though."

"And so you wanted to try and make a personal style and test it out on this kid then?"

Nightingale turned to her father and beamed, glad that he had cottoned on so quickly. "Yup!"

Bruce shook his head in resignation. "Well, you're going to have to wait for another chance then. Let's go back to the car. We can call this in to the cops."

"Dad, don't forget the pants!"

He turned back, frowning. "What pants?"

Nightingale sighed exasperatedly and pointed at the large wet patch on Wyatt's jeans. "Replacement pants for him!"

"Sweetie -"

"Dad, we talked about this! It's not nice to leave crooks with soiled pants in a crime scene like this! Especially with the recent rainy weather! And winter's coming soon!"

"So just tell them to brace themselves. I'm sure their equipment won't freeze off."

"Pleeeeaseee…?" she wheedled.

Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh and trudged back to where he parked the Batmobile. Diana watched in silent amusement. "Fine," her husband said as he grumbled to himself.

"You're the best Daddy! I think he's a size 29!"

Diana patted Bruce's shoulder in sympathy as he walked past her. "The things we do for our baby daughter, right Bruce?"

"She's too nice, just like you!" he moaned in reply. "I miss the days when I could just punch them senseless and leave them tied up for Jim. Do you know how much I've spent on pants for crooks this past month alone?"

"I heard you Dad! Stop complaining!"

* * *

**A/N: Upfront I just want to say that any civilian/character names (not just here but also in my other fics) are fictional and just lifted off the top of my head; I'm really not good with coming up with names heh. Any relation to any real person is purely coincidental and I apologize if I accidentally offend anybody.**

**To those who have reviewed, thanks so far! As always, please R every review always spurs me to better my skills and improve so that I can tell a better story for my readers to enjoy! **


	3. Chapter 3: Maternity Wear

**Universe 3576: Gotham City (Wayne Manor)**

"I'm home!"

Jason quirked an eyebrow in confusion as he wandered around the Manor, wondering where everyone had disappeared to. "Dad? Diana? Alfred!"

He poked his head into the kitchen. "Tim? You there, bro? Damian! Dick!"

There was still no reply. Strange. Breakfast was still on the table, and he counted three plates, all with half-eaten food. The food was already cold, so they had been gone for quite some time. He noticed the platter of egg sandwiches at the centre of the kitchen island. His stomach rumbled in quiet protest, and he shrugged to himself. "Don't mind if I do," he said to himself, snagging one of the sandwiches.

There was the sound of a toilet flushing from the bathroom nearby, and he turned his head to see Stephanie walk out, wiping her hands on one of the hand towels. "If it isn't my favourite future sister-in-law!" he grinned, giving her a friendly hug.

She gave him a lopsided grin in return. "Your only future sister-in-law at present, Jay. At least until Damian tries his luck again in asking Kara out on a date. Have you seen Tim? We were supposed to meet up here first before heading out for a date."

"Funny thing is, I was just gonna ask you where the others were."

She shook her head in confusion. "That's what I asked Cass when I arrived fifteen minutes ago."

"Cass is here?"

"Upstairs in her room. Taking a shower after training, after she let me in."

Both cocked their heads at the sound of someone coming down the stairs. A short moment later, Cassandra walked into the kitchen, still towelling her wet hair. "Hi, guys."

"Hey sis. You seen the others?"

Cass shrugged. "Bruce and Diana went out early this morning to see Dr Mid-Nite; I'm not sure why exactly. They came back about three hours ago, with Dick accompanying them. They seemed flustered, but excited all at the same time. The moment they came back, Bruce dragged Alfred, Tim and Damian down to the Batcave. They've all been down there since. Are you thinking of going down there?"

Jason kept quiet as the wheels turned in his head, before his face broke out in a sudden grin. "Nah, I got a better idea. Can you pass me Tim's laptop?" He gestured at the said item, still lying there on the kitchen counter.

He quickly booted up the laptop and activated a program. "While I was still…a rogue, let's leave it at that…there was an opportunity for me to reconcile with Dad. I was still a stubborn jackass, but I wasn't going to be the asshole who turned down an olive branch. So I met him in the Cave. It wasn't pretty; we had some harsh words."

He continued tapping out commands on the laptop. "But…I managed to sneak in a hidden cam that tapped into the Cave's power grid, just to know what was going on. I was trained by him, after all. Like it or not, we all develop a few control-freak tendencies. Let's just hope it still works…"

The camera feed popped up, showing a clear picture of the small group huddled around the main Batcomputer. Jason grinned. "Bingo."

The three peered closely at the picture before them, trying to make sense of it. Tim was seated at the computer, typing intently as Bruce, Dick and Alfred stood on either side, giving comments about whatever he was working on. Damian was standing a short distance away, but seemed no less involved in the conversation. Diana stood behind the group, observing their antics. She was sporting the exasperated but fond grin that usually appeared whenever Bruce or any of her boys (Jason included) were cooking up some hare-brained scheme. Jason noticed this, and shrugged. "At least it doesn't look serious."

Stephanie nudged him impatiently. "You get any sound on this thing?"

"Yeah, yeah, hang on."

There was some static, before the voices of the group started to filter in. Dick's voice was the first that they heard.

"Needs more blue. Nightwing blue."

Bruce snorted in derision. "If it were up to you, everything in my house would be blue. Answer's no."

"Oh come on, blue is a refreshing, calming colour. That's the best colour for her to wear, given the circumstances."

"Still no." There was some silence before Bruce spoke up again. "Could use some more black though. Add it in, Tim."

Dick threw up his hands in frustration. "You gotta be kidding me! Black? Again? Why?"

"It helps to hide her, it's slimming, and she looks good in it."

"She looks good in any colour, Bruce!" This earned him an affectionate hair ruffle from a grinning Diana as thanks. "Especially blue, if I might add," finished Dick in a huff.

"Don't care. I'm paying for it, not you. More black, Tim."

Tim's nose wrinkled in distaste at his father's instructions – clearly he agreed with Dick – but he shrugged as he followed them, keying in a few more commands. Once done, he leaned back in the chair as the others looked at the results.

Dick's shoulders slumped in grudging defeat. "Fine, maybe black works better in this case."

Bruce said nothing, but his smug grin was more than enough. "Right, let's talk armour."

Alfred seemed more involved in this part than the others, to the surprise of Jason, Cass and Steph. "It would have to be full-body armour, of course," he was saying as he pointed to the screen. "Lightweight ceramic plating, Kevlar lining – nothing but the best for Mrs Wayne. Master Tim, bring the focus back down to the stomach area, if you please. Let's add some more armour there."

There was typing, then Tim looked up at Alfred questioningly. "Is this enough?"

"More layers, please."

More typing, then a pause. "Ok…like this?"

"More."

"How about this?"

"More armour."

"Now?"

"More."

This went on for a few more minutes until Alfred was satisfied. The rest though, all had their noses upturned in dislike. Dick was the one to state the obvious. "That…is a lot of stomach armour."

"Naturally, Master Dick, we have to go to great lengths to ensure that Mrs Wayne is protected."

"Isn't this overkill, Al?"

Alfred looked positively offended by this last statement. "Nonsense!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Mrs Wayne is carrying my surrogate granddaughter, and since we all know that she's not going to give up being Wonder Woman until she cannot completely avoid it, then naturally we must ensure her complete protection! The notion that you do not want to ensure the best protection for your unborn sister – for shame, Master Richard!"

Dick had backed away, sufficiently cowed into submission, and was now looking down at the floor, hands buried in his pocket, wearing the same face he had worn as a kid when Bruce had discovered he and Wally West had taken out one of the Batmobiles for a spin, only to drive it into the lake. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, to the amusement of the onlookers, Jason, Cass and Steph included.

Unfortunately, Damian chose that very moment to break the mood.

"If she wears this right now, she'll look bloated," he said, direct and brutally honest as always. "I'm not an expert on these things, but I believe the natural order of things is for her to wait until the 7th or 8th month for her to start looking this…round."

"Hippolyta'd kill you if she heard you say that about her daughter," muttered Tim.

"She'd have to get in line," added Diana, clearly offended, although she knew that Damian didn't really mean it.

Damian was aware he was currently digging his own grave, and despite his young age, he knew enough to know he wasn't going to win this one. "I'll shut up now. Sorry, Diana."

"That's all right, dear," said a mollified Diana, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Bruce was all business as he turned to face them, intent on bringing the conversation to a close. "Okay, we've settled on the design for Diana's maternity wear for everyday wear," he said briskly, with Alfred nodding in complete agreement beside him. "Let's talk armour for normal missions, then for Justice League missions, then ones for hostile environments."

He continued rambling before he noticed his three sons all staring at him, slack-jawed. "You mean," Tim managed to get the words out, "you mean…all this while, we weren't designing her combat armour?"

Both Bruce and Alfred looked at him disdainfully as if he had asked the stupidest question in the world. "Of course not," said the younger man, with an air of finality. "I just said: Everyday wear."

Dick had his head in his hands. "We're gonna be stuck in here _all day_."

The look on Bruce's face clearly said he didn't care. "Don't think you lot are excused from patrol tonight either, I'm bringing my beautiful wife out to dinner to celebrate the fact that we're going to be parents. Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, I know you're listening. Same goes for you three."

Batman's six protégés let out a collective groan as Bruce continued on with nary a care in the world. "Right, let's get started proper on designing Wonder Woman's new combat armour. I'm thinking we need more black…"

* * *

**A/N: I was actually in the middle of writing a different chapter for this one-shot series when the idea for this chapter suddenly popped up in my head out of nowhere. Spent the next few hours writing it all down before it disappeared, and I really enjoy the result. Hope you all enjoy reading it too!**

**As always, please read & review...maybe even recommend! Thanks all!**


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